Love Sick
by sodalicious
Summary: Maka's daily schedule consists of forcing her body out of bed, taking her meds, staying away from sharp objects, killing demons, and praying every night that a bolt of lightning will strike her dead. She's on a mission to find the ultimate "cool" act of death, and she just might have found it...in Soul.


He's insane, they said.

He's out of his mind, they whispered.

He's off the deep end, they grimaced.

He's batshit crazy, they sneered.

He's beyond help, they concluded.

Eyes were watching him. No matter where he hid or how far he ran, he couldn't escape their piercing stares. Eyes of all colors and all shapes blinked in unison at him.

The eyes. They wanted something from him. He didn't know what. He had nothing left. He swiped his curled fingers at anything within his arm's reach. But eyes merely danced away from his bloody nail-less fingertips. They bounced and wiggled around him.

He screeched in terror. He clawed at his eyes frantically. His eyes were betraying him. Watching him. His intestines coiled and twisted in the acid building in his stomach. A loud guttural wail ripped from his throat. The acid was traveling up his chest, pumping violently into his heart.

The excruciating pain was strangely comforting.

Liquid dripped down his forehead leaving a trail to the side of his nose, over his lips and off his chin. He brought up a finger to feel the substance. He brought his hand away from his face and found his finger red with blood. More trails of blood streamed down his face. He was having a blood bath. But, how could he have a bath without his rubber ducky?

He laughed in staccato outbursts. Shriek after shriek of unbidden laughter.

* * *

**Love Sick**

(Disclaimer: I recommend a gross suspension of disbelief when reading this story.)

Chapter I of X

_Part I of IX: Frosted Flake Wood_

* * *

"It's a boat."

Maka stared deadpanned at the colossal structure floating in the middle of the ocean. She traced three gigantic needles protruding from the castle-shaped ziggurat miraculously staying afloat the cold dark waters. She eyed the balls of fire flaming proudly at the tip of each needle. It was snazzy for what it was worth, but she couldn't imagine any particular need for this obnoxious grandeur. Perhaps it was to scare off seagulls.

Her father, standing next to her, shook his head. "It's not a _boat_," he corrected. "It's an institution."

She glanced at the tall Albarn patriarch and merely shrugged. Large fluffy clouds drifted by the dirigible, in which they were being transported from their homeland to the "_institution_". Ironically, Maka noted, the dirigible was built from an actual boat, a single-masted sloop. There were several passengers out on deck, leaning over the rail to have a look at their destination.

Everyone stumbled a bit when the dirigible began its descent. She felt slightly light-headed as she was lowered from the clear cerulean sky onto the rocky waters. The airship plopped itself not to gracefully atop the murky ocean. Angry waves crashed against the sides of the ship. Some larger ones made it onto the deck, drenching unlucky passengers.

The crew quickly scrambled to deflate gasbags in the large fabric balloon above them. Maka watched with fascination as they expertly managed to gather the enormous amount of fabric and stuff it into a container below deck. The airship sputtered to life, and it set sail towards the pointy castle.

Words engrained at the top of the port gateway neared closer and closer.

"Death City Psychiatric Institution."

Maka looked on with feigned disinterest over what will probably be her home for the rest of her miserable life. The castle façade was a nice touch but the cold stoned walls functioned effectively as a quarantine to keep people like her away from society. Bars would line every window, the walls might be padded, any object that could potentially be used as a weapon would be strictly forbidden, and she would be fed oatmeal and stale bread until her dying days.

She was surprisingly more excited than she should've been. Unlike some of the other passengers who were already wailing in despair over their inescapable fate, she looked forward to the challenges ahead. Maybe she could soak her t-shirt in water and attempt to swallow it. Or, she could convince the other patients to give her their meds and down all the pills at once, but that would be insultingly mundane. Shower curtains were acceptable for suffocation but experience had taught her that a prompt and proper administration of C.P.R. can bring her back. If she could convince the staff to allow her knitting needles as a therapeutic hobby, but no. That was highly unlikely thanks to her well-known inclination to stab herself.

She could pick a fight with another patient and hope he stabs her heart with a fork. Or she could try to lodge a few checkers pieces into her throat, since all mental institutions had a checkerboard by default. Not a foolproof plan she admitted, but limited resources called for desperate deaths. While it was imperative to formulate a plan immediately, there was one pressing issue nagging in the back of her mind.

"Dad," she began suspiciously. "Where did you hear about this place?"

He looked down at his precious daughter, his puppy eyes welling up with affectionate tears. Nothing but pure unadulterated love oozed from every cell in his body for his precocious only child. And in his eyes, Maka saw that he would always adore everything about her, every strand of hair, and he will treasure every moment they spend together for all eternity.

She wanted to gag.

"Well, baby," he cooed as he patted her head, "this is actually the place I attended, where I met your mother for the first time."

Maka ducked her head away from her father's large hand and batted it away carelessly. "Attended?" She wrinkled her nose and regarded him dubiously. "You _attended _a psych ward?"

Spirit Albarn nearly squeaked at his daughter's adorable face, twisted in her confusion and apparent disgust. She was so perfect in every possible way. He chuckled good-naturedly and leaned his elbows casually on the deck.

"You see, Maka, this is not really a psychiatric hospital. It's an academy for kids who possess certain unique abilities." He paused to glance at her and she thought he looked guilty for a moment. "It's not easy to explain, and the institution will do a better job than I can. But… the way you are," he struggled, "it's not your fault. It's actually mine… And your mom's," he quickly added.

Maka nearly rolled her eyes at the absurdity and boredom of her father's testimonial confession.

"You will have heavy responsibilities, you will make difficult decisions, you will work harder than you ever did before. But it is all for the purpose of helping you."

This was sounding utterly stupid to the young girl and her face said so. Instead of the usual adoration from her sappy father, he spoke to her grimly and she wasn't sure which side of her father she hated more. The surreal and unexpected response caught her off guard. At first, she gleefully thought he was subtly trying to get rid of her once and for all. But his strange talk led her to believe he was planning something worse.

"You will make friends, here. Friends like yourself. And I'll visit often. You'll see. You will like it, here. I promise."

May the God of Death have mercy on her soul - _her dad was planning to save her_, she realized in abject horror.

* * *

"Dooby Dooby Dubiummmm."

A wet and darkly hoarse voice scratched her ear, sending cold shivers skittering down her spine. Maka whipped her head back and slashed her scythe across the empty space to her right. It's lingering whisper set her nerves on edge. The evasive demon permeated an unbearable stench of rotting flesh and putrid blood. It apparently also took pleasure in hissing nonsense into her ear.

"Dammit!" She cried out in frustration. She couldn't help but growl. It was supposed to be an easy operation. Easy-in. Easy-out. A quick beheading and back home to their warm cozy apartment.

But when had Dr. Sid gotten anything right?

Maka blamed herself for her naive faith in her doctors. Quite frankly, she never saw a proof of license from any of the staff members at the institution. She demanded to see any university degree or documentation of professional education numerous times in the past only to be rebuffed as "way in over her head," which she was undoubtedly about to lose at any given moment.

Suddenly, a large stiff body roughly crashed into her from the right and she tumbled to the ground with a reluctant cry. Amidst their struggle the demon threw a vicious swipe at her legs with its paw, 3-inch long claws left five deep gashes on her thigh. The scratches burned hotly and her hand instinctively flew to cover her wound. Biting her lip in fury, she steadied her elbows on the gravel ground and threw her head forward making certain the damn demon felt the excruciating pain of having its jaw broken by her cranium. Taking advantage of its momentary shock, she quickly jumped to her feet reaching for her weapon. She spun around, ready to stab the demon with her scythe, but it was nowhere to be seen. This time, her weapon growled impatiently.

Usually, parasitic demons in their early stages were slow and clumsy, unaccustomed to their deceased and rotting corporal hosts. The person prior to the possession was long dead and gone. If only she had learned of the incident faster, they may have been able to save the soul by merely exorcising the demon. However, this demon was strangely strong and uncharacteristically nimble.

She ran her fingers through her hair, giving her scalp a good thorough rub. At some point during the fight, her pigtails got loose and her hair, with its newfound freedom, was whipping her face from all directions. She impatiently peeled away the ashen strands plastered against her cheek and narrowed her eyes into the dark. It was near impossible to see anything.

The church they were in had been abandoned for centuries. Only decaying wooden benches and stale mossy stones graced the holy ground. Shattered pieces of stained glass were strewn across the church floor. She briefly assessed her legs, cuts and bruises and pieces of glass adorned her limbs. A forbidden thrill numbed her senses. For a moment, the world was perfect and she was exactly where she wanted to be. The physical pain throbbed through her body alongside the cold air, which provided to be the perfect salient.

"Maka!"

Startled, she ducked out of habit more than from any visible danger. She felt another set of claws graze the crown of her head and slice the delicate strands of her hair at the back of her neck. She giggled unwittingly. That could've sliced off her head entirely!

Her partner's infuriated growl rumbled from her weapon and it shook from repressed emotions. She wanted to pet him and tell him it was going to be okay.

"I swear the fuck to God, Maka, if you attempt one of your infamous suicide acts right now I'm going to force Stein to bring you back to life just so I can have the pleasure of killing you _myself_."

She rolled her eyes at her partner's rant. "Really?" She snapped back at him, "you're throwing a hissy fit, here? At this very moment?"

She didn't give him the opportunity to rebut. The demon finally leapt out of its hiding spot and revealed itself under the moonlight. It was not human. It never was human.

"What the hell?!" Maka yelled out unbidden. Dr. Sid had said it was a demon possession past the initial stage, where the demon spirit devours the human soul and takes control of the deteriorating mortal body.

But this _thing _in front of her was never a human body. She wasn't sure if it was a demon. It was a creature resembling a mythical werewolf she read about as a child.

Suddenly the creature yowled loudly drawing back its mouth to show a row of jagged fangs dripping with thick black ooze.

"Oh my god," she remarked. "It's a cat creature. I think."

"Who the fuck cares?" Her weapon griped. "Waste it." Whatever it was, it needed to die. Immediately. It had been feeding off humans the past month, and tracking it down had been utter hell.

"Well," she drawled. "Do you know _how_?"

"Slice now, ask later." But the creature dodged with inhuman speed. Maka blinked and it was gone.

"Little shit," Maka gritted out through her clenched teeth. "Soul, gimme a sec." She eased out of her battle form and closed her eyes. Slowing down her heart rate and breathing, she concentrated on the flow of energy surrounding her. It was fast, she could feel the heat of energy circling her and her partner. Something sinister brushed against her back. A gust of cold wind reeking of death slipped past her thigh. The tiny hairs on her forearm tingled from an unwelcomed presence approaching her with alarming speed. Fast, but predictable. With eyes still closed, she deftly sidestepped to the right and thrust her weapon to the left, swinging it grandly behind her over her head.

She felt the scythe finally make contact with the creature, and it writhed in agony. She let out a whoosh of air that had been locked in her lungs as she struck the final blow. A line of the creature's coiling black residue splattered against her face and uniform. She grimaced in distaste. Blood was a chore to wash off. Technically, it was toxic waste, and she would probably have to torch her outfit. Despite her disgust, the corner of her mouth twitched with satisfaction as the creature screeched and squirmed in its remaining dwindling life before it succumbed to a peaceful death.

A new body walked up beside her. Cracking his stiff limbs and neck, he licked his lips, and sharp pearly fangs glistened in hunger. Glowing red eyes glanced at her, and she looked back at him blankly. He regarded the dead demon with mounting anticipation and proceeded to slurp up a black orb that emerged from their latest kill. Once fully digested, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and peered at Maka through his unruly silver bangs.

"My eating habits used to bother you," he teased.

Maka, who had not blinked as she watched him ingest the spirit, smiled sweetly at her charming partner. "Nothing could possibly bother me more than your abysmal grades," she quipped.

Soul Eater, death-scythe-in-training, snorted.

They ambled to his motorcycle aimlessly. Now that the demon was gone, the church didn't seem so dank and dreary. It became comforting. Maka wondered if some protective holy spirit was hovering above her, commending her for another job well done. She entertained the idea that if she died at that very moment, the higher powers that be would most likely promote her as an archangel to lead heaven's army against all evil.

"I accept your humble and fitting proposal!" She declared into the night. Maka laughed boisterously, proud of herself for an accomplishment that never happened.

Soul jumped at her sudden outburst and stared at his meister. She stopped laughing and wordlessly climbed on to his motorcycle. He shook his head ruefully.

"Maka, you're crazy."

"Make sure you report that in writing to Dr. Stein."

"What good'll that do?" He mused. The engine roared to life beneath their seat. Soul grabbed the handlebars with practiced ease.

"They'll send you to basement!" He threatened to the blonde girl behind him. Begrudgingly, her arms encircled his waist, and she grimaced at the thought.

* * *

Dr. Frank N. Stein was disappointed when someone knocked on his door. For once, he would've liked to live one day where no one knocked on his door, where he could dissect his grapefruit in peace. He hated grapefruits. And he hated people. He hated all living things. He hated himself.

"Come in."

He hated Liz and Patti. Every time they entered his room, they left an hour later leaving behind chaos and destruction, mostly caused by the youngest of the sisters. The little snot had the nerve to draw zoo animals all over his walls and he couldn't say one word in protest.

He hated zoo animals. He dissected many in his youth, and he had nothing to show for it except for this job. No, not "job." Charge. Duty to society. Community service. Indentured servitude. Bingo.

Whatever the fuck he was doing at the Death City Psychiatric Institute, his boss explicitly forbade him from letting the two sisters go. They were dangerously powerful and very capable weapons, after all. And the boss was quite fond of them much like the daughters he never had and never wanted.

Without warning, two globes of full bouncing breasts were pushed up against his face, smashing his glasses into the bridge of his nose. Pained tears leaked from his eyes.

"Doctor! Are you free?" Liz looked down with sharp eyes at his depressed face squished between her boobs.

Dr. Stein shoved her unceremoniously into the chair in front of him. Behind her, Patti was already furiously coloring his walls with unforgiving vengeance, as if the clean white walls offended her existence.

"Patti!" Liz called out over her shoulder, "Come sit down!"

"My mom is not fat!" Patti screamed and began to smash her crayon pieces into the plaster.

The good doctor cringed and wanted to cry inside. On the outside, he was a picture of a perfectly trained professional, stoic and unabashed. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at Liz.

"Well," Liz shrugged, "she's not."

"I never said she was," he answered immediately.

"I never said you did," she said just as quickly.

"Liz," he began, "why do you come, here, everyday?" It was the question he asked daily.

And everyday, she answered, "You need to sign our papers, doc."

Dr. Stein sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "For the last time, Liz, you and your sister are not qualified to perform an independent mental prognosis on yourself."

"I'm _not _crazy, and neither is my sister!" She pleaded. "I don't even know why or how we got here! _Why _are we here?!" She grabbed the lapels of his white coat and began to shake him violently.

In the background, Patti also opted to strangle the skeleton display in the corner of the room. "Fuck you! My mom is not a whore!" She cried out at the skeleton.

"You need to let us go!" Liz wailed and she circled her arms around the doctor's head, forcing his face to squeeze into her ample chest once more.

"_Piss_ _off_, you skinny twat!" Patti cried vehemently. She thrashed the poor skeleton to the ground and ran to her next victim: Dr. Stein's coatrack.

"What?" Stein blurted out.

"We're _criminals_, not psychopaths!" Liz cried out. She rubbed her curves against the doctor skillfully. Her loud shrill voice rang in his ears and his eye began to twitch.

He calmly reached up and turned the screw lodged in his head. After a few clicks, he soothed his nerves and shoved Liz into her chair once again. "That is precisely why you are here. You are delinquents, and delinquents with your particular skillset are sent to this institution to help you cope with your abilities and learn to interact with other members of society without harming them," he repeatedly told her.

Well, he was lying. A little bit. There were many other reasons to have them, here. The main reason was coming, literally. He was en route, on his flying skateboard. Dr. Stein scratched his head. From what he had heard, the son of his boss had a few loose screws himself. There were rumors of a certain OCD problem child who had trouble getting along with everyone, everything and everywhere.

His boss had hoped the sisters would somewhat appease his future heir. Despite some concern over the apparent height difference between the two girls, he had no better alternative.

Dr. Stein wasn't quite sure why it had to be this particular troublesome pair. They were more likely to intensify madness rather than destroy it. Then again, less deranged members of the institution had been driven to utter insanity after a few years on the job. Occupational hazard, really. Which was why they hired an awesome and dashingly handsome doctor, who happened to be the top-leading expert in the field of psychiatry.

Or he would've been, if the authorities had not caught him about to dismember and reassemble five dead corpses to create, essentially, a zombie. He just wanted to see if he could do it - that was his defense in court.

Liz rolled her eyes shamelessly, "That is _such _a crock of sh-"

The door to the medical office burst open and slammed against the wall. "Hey Doc! Have no fear! Your all merciful and omnipotent God is here!" A blued-haired ball of energy charged into his room and climbed the tallest structure in the vicinity, which happened to be the coatrack currently being gnawed on by Patti.

"Hey!" The youngest sister complained through her gnashing teeth, "Get your own girlfriend!"

Dr. Stein groaned miserably. A zombie was _so _not worth this.

* * *

"Soul."

He grunted in response.

When he didn't even bother to spare her a glance, Maka huffed and lovingly chucked a book at his head. Seeing him topple over with a string of curses spewing from his mouth made her feel better.

"What should I write in our report?" She continued. Soul made his way back onto their sofa and glared at her scathingly. Impervious, Maka propped her legs on top of his, entangling their limbs from opposite ends of the sofa.

"How the hell should I know? That's your job," he snapped at her. He tried to free his legs, but she was adamant in keeping him still.

"But I don't know what to call that thing we killed," she whined.

"Who fucking cares what you call it?" he scoffed.

"I think it's something worth noting to Dr. Stein before we submit the report."

"Then, note it."

When she didn't respond, Soul happily returned his attention to the television. He tried to shove her bare legs away from his, but she didn't falter in locking them together.

"Soul," Maka started again. Something in her voice made him pause his fruitless efforts. He had heard that tone before – a musical lilt, soft and lingering, like early spring rain. His gut knotted instantly. And despite alarms blaring in his head, he dared to look at her.

Her head was slightly ducked to the side, and she looked up at him. In the darkness of their living room, her green eyes sparkled and glowed in mischief. He wondered what he had done in his previous life to deserve such a punishment to be at the mercy of a girl.

She was now making her way towards him from across the sofa. On her hands and knees, she nimbly maneuvered around his long legs and timidly brought her face up to his. She licked her lips and he could feel her gentle breath fan his heated cheek. His fists clenched the seat cushion.

"How come," Maka whispered, "how come we don't...do _this_ anymore?"

Soul closed his eyes and bit back a groan. Life just wasn't fair. He tenderly leaned his forehead against hers, their bangs brushing against each other. He allowed himself to run his hands up her slender bare arms. She shivered slightly in response, goosebumps rising where his hands had been. He slipped his hand to the nape of her neck and nudged her lips closer to his.

"You know why," he admonished quietly.

"But I don't mind," she whispered. Her calloused hands tugged his shoulders closer to her. Her eyes were already half-lidded and her lips tingled with the need for touch.

Soul's grip on her waist tightened, and he greedily pulled her willing body to his. His mind was torn, but his body, not so much.

It was just a kiss, he thought. Surely one kiss couldn't hurt, he reasoned. But he could feel his nerves tingling, the familiar numbing sensation that bordered between bliss and pain. It was too much. She was touching him too much.

"Maka," he tried to sound sharp but came out weak. "I don't think – "

She kissed him without preamble. It was sloppy. It was clumsy. He felt chapped lips rub his dry ones. Soul squeezed her waist in his arms so desperately he thought she would break.

Maka sighed with pleasure. She shifted in his lap and tilted her head to the side but their lips remained pressed firmly against each other. Soul tried to be uncooperative, and she whined in protest. Her determined gaze bore into his nervous look before she ran her warm tongue across his bottom lip.

He broke.

Soul captured her eager lips in a rough kiss. His bony fingers dug into her waist, and he pressed her slender body even closer to him to quench a thirst that had him nearly gasping. He could feel every cell in his body reaching out to absorb her scent, her skin, her sweat.

Suddenly, she fluttered in his arms and released a rapturous moan into his mouth that vibrated throughout his body in stormy waves. He felt the tremble in his every limb, and Maka's cry echoed in his veins.

Then, his hand slipped on something thick and wet on her waist. At first, he feared the worst but quickly realized there was something far more alarming. His eyes shot open and he shoved her away brusquely to glance down at her side.

Blood.

Maka's blood. Dripping down to the band of her shorts and dyeing the edge an ugly dark red.

Maka's blood. Smeared on his hand currently in the form of a blade.

A sharp thin line of rich red blood marred the tanned skin of her side.

"SHIT!" He pushed her off of him with more force than he intended, and Maka landed on the floor haphazardly. "Fuck! Goddammit, Maka! Fuck me! Shit!" He dropped to the ground next to her and grabbed any material in sight to press against her wound, which ended up being his favorite shirt.

The wretched girl had the nerve to simply smile at him. The emerald prism in her eyes glistened from breathless exhilaration. And for a fleeting moment, Soul forgot what he was doing.

Without a word, Maka reached for his face, her lips already parted in invitation. She whispered gingerly, "It's okay, Soul. It's fine. I'm perfectly fine." She spoke against his mouth. It took his every strength and effort to pull away.

Now, he was mad. Seeing his shirt getting soaked further each passing second, he scowled and shoved himself away from Maka. He reached for the phone and dialed a number his finger was long accustomed to.

"What." A tired and hoarse voice growled from the other end.

"Dr. Stein," Soul sighed in frustration, "she's cut. She needs stitches."

Stein groaned in agony. On the other side of town, he rubbed his bloodshot eyes with his palm, and barked, "Hurry up, then!"

* * *

A pair of black leather loafers landed firmly on the gravel ground, and a cloud of dust rose around a tall and slender body. The pair of shoes gleamed and squeaked as the figure took calculated steps towards Death City Psychiatric Institution.

Patients ambling idly on the grounds of the institution stared at the black suited figure. Making its way to the front gates Some were curious. Some were alarmed. Others had better things to do, like eat caterpillars.

Eruka brushed her ice-blue tendrils from her small face. Her eyes were wide and round, and her smile was wide and clever like a child with a dirty secret. Slowly, she brought up another caterpillar to her mouth as her gaze followed the newcomer. She chewed thoughtfully.

_Who dyes three horizontal lines on their hair like that?_ She mocked.

Before she could pop another caterpillar, a loud explosion shook the grounds with a slight tremor. Around her, patients cried out in surprise, and a few had already started making their way towards the source. Dark cloud-like smoke rose from the other side of the property. People around her were chattering excitedly, pointing at the spherical clouds of smoke rising into the sky with wisps of smoke trailing behind them.

Admist the commotion, Eruka continued to stare at the smartly dressed young man who approached the gates unaffected by the bomb that just went off.

Rage bubbled in her gut, and it percolated with a vengeance towards this person whom she had never met before. She suddenly hated his cocky walk that never faltered in its steps since he landed on the grounds. She hated his impassive face that never spared a glance towards the explosion. She hated his smug black suit and his stupid skateboard. She abhorred the pair of guns that hung upside down from his pinky fingers. What an arrogant little prick, she scorned.

Dropping her handful of caterpillars to the ground, she rose to stand up on her two feet incased in her favorite white hooker boots. That bastard with the stupid hair was now standing in front of the large doors into the institution. He seemed to be pondering something. She didn't care. Her hand slipped inside the pocket of her polka dot dress and wrapped around a small round object.

She then swung her arm back, preparing to chuck the round object at his head.

"ERUKA FROG!" Dr. Sid's voiced thundered from across the grounds. "STOP BOMBING THE CHICKEN COUP, DAMMIT!"

She croaked and unwittingly dropped her round object somewhere in the tall patch of grass around her. "Oh shi—"

A second but much smaller explosion went off.

Kidd looked up upon hearing a familiar male voice. He had been standing at the double doors, debating his fate and options available to him. He could either shoot the doors down or kick them down and stomp them to pieces. Whichever method he decided upon, he needed to destroy the pair of uneven door handles that mocked him with their very existence.

How could his father hire such amateur construction workers who couldn't even install door handles properly? How could his father have been so careless? This was an outrage.

But Dr. Sid's baritone interrupted his irritated musings and he decided to go around back in search of the man. He vaguely took note of a second but much smaller explosion in the distance mingled with some screaming, here and there.

Looked like just another day at Death City Psych.

"Dr. Sid?" Kidd ventured into the crater in the back of the institute grounds. Charred debris were scattered everywhere. Black scorch marks stretched from the burnt ground to the stoned wall of the institution. Trees were broken and the once green field was violently singed. Thousands of feathers, blackened and still ablaze, floated in the air everywhere around him.

In the chaos, a pair of cold beady eyes turned towards him. Cold blue lips parted into a smile showing large blocks of white teeth. "Kidd!" Sid gladly turned away from what was now a chicken graveyard to greet him. "How've you been, ma'boy?" His monstrous burly fist kneaded affectionately into the crown of Kidd's head, and the boy cringed ever so slightly.

"I received a notice from my father," the stoic young man answered. "Something about new recruits for a potential partnership."

Sid nodded knowingly. "We are quite eager to see results," he mused. "Stop by Dr. Stein on the way for a physical before you report to your father. We want to make sure you're ready first."

Kidd only nodded and finally headed into the building. He made his way through the grand entrance, down the main staircase, past several doors, until he reached a thick door melded together with patches of various sheets of metal. He knocked.

"Come in."

Inside, Dr. Stein sat backwards in his chair. In front of him was a small slip of a girl, dirty blonde hair in pigtails, and her shirt was scrunched up below her breasts. Dr. Stein was in the process of securing a gauze pad on her bare side. Kidd passively noticed several old scars scattered on the girl's bare midriff. In the back of the room, a young boy with platinum white hair and a permanent scowl pasted on his face stood leaning on the wall with crossed arms. They stared at him.

"Who are you?" The girl pipped.

"This is Death the Kidd," Dr. Stein hand gestured to their new guest. Kidd's lack of expression was equally matched by everyone in the room.

Maka didn't care much for scrawny boys. She didn't care much for anything.

Soul just wanted Maka to stop bleeding. Unless this kid with zebra hair knew how to instantly heal a wound, he was of little interest to Soul.

"He's the Warden's son," Dr. Stein gratuitously provided.

Maka whipped her head to regard the good Doctor incredulously. "He's the son of _Grim_?!" At Stein's flippant nod, she leaped out of her chair, and in seconds, her powerful fist brutally flew to Kidd's head.

Although taken aback, Kidd merely sidestepped out of her path. He spun to his left in a graceful whirl. His hands reached for his guns from the holster inside his blazer. Before he could properly aim for the girl's pretty little head, she snapped back a high kick to his shoulder and he crashed into the wall. Her clenched fist smashed into the wall where his head had landed. His head would have been impounded had he not ducked in time.

Kidd realized she was a lot stronger than she led people to believe. Freakishly strong, in fact. It was a pity she had to die.

From his crouched position, he leapt over her head with ease. Kidd was impressed she maintained eye contact with him. Although her lips were tight and determined, her eyes were vivacious and mirthful. In spite of himself, Kidd felt a foreign but pleasant thrill charge his body with an electric feel.

Mid-soar, he aimed both his guns to her face, literally inches away, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

"Did you hear that?" Liz grabbed Patti by the arm in the hallway. The younger girl climbed on top of her sister's shoulders and put her hand up to her ear.

"Hmmmm…I don't hear the sound of music," Patti concluded.

"No," Liz tilted her head back to look up at Patti, "gunshots. Two. At the same time." Still balancing her sister on her shoulders, Liz started sprinting towards the direction of the shots that were still ringing in her ears.

Patti squealed and clapped her hands excitedly, "Giddy up! Giddy up!"

Liz paid no mind and continued to run where she was sure the sound came from. In fact, it was where she and her sister were headed for their daily appointment – Dr. Stein's office.

Gunshots meant guns. Guns meant weapons. Weapons meant replacements. If they found more than one gun, then there was a slight possibility she and her sister would be dismissed. Liz could only hope.

Foregoing formalities as per usual, Liz kicked the metal door open, and Patti tumbled from the top of her head into the room laughing all the while.

"GUNS," Liz bellowed. "I heard guns!" She searched out Dr. Stein in the chaos of his room. She quickly assessed Maka standing in the middle in front of a boy she had never seen before. He had a pair of guns aimed at Maka. Soul stood protectively between the two, his blades crossed in front of him to shield himself and his Meister from the bullets.

Dr. Stein opened his mouth to answer.

Kidd swung one of his arms and aimed his second gun at the newly arrived intruder. He had no idea who these other two girls were but, like the first crazy bitch he encountered, they were blonde and they looked harmless. Now that he knew better, he wasted no time in attacking first. Shots were callously fired.

He wasn't surprised in the least when the buxom blonde in the cowboy hat dodged to the side, and his shots rained on the door behind her. What _did _surprise him was when she cried out "Patti!" and the other blonde sprung towards her and transformed mid-flight into a beautiful golden firearm.

Now armed, the tall blonde stood up slowly, keeping her aim steady at Kidd. Her gray-blue eyes flared dangerously, and her taut forearms flexed with the gun clenched tightly in her hands. "Drop it," she seethed at him.

Kidd fully intended to take her weapon and make it his. The only way to do that was to kill the current wielder. He was sure his father would understand. He wanted that gold-plated gun. It would take him forever to create an identical piece, but it would be worth it.

Maka and Soul had long since made themselves absent. They were nowhere to be seen. Kidd felt a little disappointed.

Dr. Stein had yet to say anything or to interfere. He was casually propped against the back of his chair, a cig hanging from his turned-down lips. His expression hid behind the glare of the sun on his glasses.

With a sharp thrust of his other arm, a long board materialized out of thin air and flew towards Liz's head at breakneck speed. Unable to aim accurately fast enough to pull her trigger, Liz flipped backwards. The board clattered and fell to the floor behind her, and she looked back to see what he had thrown at her.

It was a fucking skateboard.

She turned around to give this immature brat a piece of her mind about fighting like adults. His sturdy arm was already swinging towards her neck. She parried with her own, and swung her fist with the other arm. He ducked quickly and slipped to the side of her tall form and kneed her in the stomach.

_How is he this fast?!_ Liz, for the first time in her life, could feel something akin to panic rise up her throat.

Suddenly, her gun slipped out of her hand and Patti returned to her healthy female figure.

"Liz! You slow cow! My turn!" Patti yelled.

Liz did not need to be told twice. She transformed into a gold firearm, identical to her sister's weapon form. Patti grabbed the gun in the air and used the momentum to fire recklessly at the shell-shocked boy.

Kidd had not expected the meister to transform into a weapon. It was unheard of. His shock nearly cost him his life and he frantically scrambled behind Dr. Stein's leather couch. Behind the couch, he heard the new meister cackle maniacally as she released bullet after bullet without rest. The furniture shook and rattled from the force of each violent hit. He had been waiting for an opening, but then he heard the two girls bickering.

"Fucking hell, Patti, _aim _a little, would ya?!" Liz, back in her human form, swallowed large gulps of air greedily into her lungs. "And don't just fire nonstop! Shoot with purpose! How many times do we have to go over this?!"

"Well, you weren't doing such a great job yourself, hag!" Patti growled.

Liz narrowed her eyes at her adorable sister and was about to pummel her to the ground. Movement from behind the couch interrupted her train of thought. "Patti! Transform!" Her sister obeyed immediately and Liz had her gun aimed at Kidd once again.

"You can _both _transform!" Kidd exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yeah," Liz sneered, "looks like you're shit outta luck, jackass." She cocked her gun. She was going to enjoy seeing his blood splatter all over Dr. Stein's linoleum floor.

Before she could plant a ruthless bullet into his eye, he dropped his arms and his guns clattered to his feet. To be honest, Liz had no qualms shooting up an unarmed man, even less so if the man were a crazy motherfucker who randomly just tried to perforate her with his own gun just minutes ago. So, it was only pure curiosity that held her back when he approached her carefully. His hands raised harmlessly in front of him.

Bored, Patti slipped out of Liz's hands and transformed back to her corporal form next to her sister. She watched him dubiously.

Both girls went rigid as Kidd grabbed a hold of their hands and declared, "Be mine."

* * *

"Soul."

He ignored her.

"_Soul_."

He ignored her still.

Maka planted her heels firmly on the ground, ignoring the sharp pull of her arm from where his hand was locked around her wrists. "Stop dragging me!" She shouted.

He growled at her and continued to tug her arm. "We need to get out of here before that kid decides to hunt you down for that stupid stunt you just pulled."

"I can take him, you know," Maka remarked conceitedly.

"Not with your injury!" Soul pointed accusingly at her side. "I still can't believe you picked a fight with _Grim's son_!" He ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "He could've killed you!"

"That was kinda the point," she drawled.

Soul wanted to punch her, so he punched the wall behind her instead.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" He whispered harshly into her face. "Are you trying to make me cut you into pieces? Because it's fucking _working_."

She tried to hide her smile unsuccessfully.

"Seriously," he sighed in defeat. "If I hadn't slipped my blade in at the last second, your face would be in pieces on Dr. Stein's floor right now."

Maka could not resist the shiver of pleasure that traveled down her spine upon hearing Soul's words. But his forlorn face prevented her from making any encouraging remarks. She could tell he was really worried.

Guilt. She might have felt guilt. She wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry," she apologized anyway. "Sometimes, I can't help myself." She tried to smile innocently.

Soul knew better, and he also knew enough to recognize her apology was as sincere as she could manage. "Whatever," he mumbled. He shoved his hands in his jean pockets and started walking away. "It was really uncool."

Maka watched his retreating figure. She saw his steps, though lazy and dragged, were purposeful and deliberate. And as she easily caught up to him, she wondered to herself, _what's a cool way to go?_

* * *

**AN:** Just testing the waters. My first Soul Eater fanfic. So sad the manga ended. Been wanting to write this for a while. The concept has been swimming in my head for 3 years until I finally had to drop everything and write it.


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